Shadowhunters sometimes can act like a generator for warlocks. What if one day Lorenzo used up all of his magic and Underhill just took his hand like “Here, take everything you need”?
lorenzo has nothing pressing after the monthly cabinet meeting adjourns and so he stays at the institute instead of retiring back to his sitting room alone. it’s pleasant to pass the time in underhill’s office, relaxing with a drink after the long and taxing discussion. for the most part, underhill is in and out, alternating between watching the security feeds and physically patrolling the premises. lorenzo doesn’t mind his split attention. he’s used to underhill being smoothly relaxed and a little bit snarky that it’s a rare treat to see him so focused like this in his place of work.
the attack on the wards happens when they’re apart. lorenzo springs into action, his drink falling forgotten onto the floor. he has no love for shadowhunters as an institution but like all warlocks, when the wards surrounding him are compromised, defending them is pure instinct. repelling the attack is draining, made even moreso by the fact that it’s not lorenzo’s magic infused into the old stone of the building.
(he makes a note to talk to magnus later and mentally curses his own pride and stubbornness. the ward handover was one of the first things he should have done as high warlock but he can admit to himself that he was avoiding both bane and the shadowhunters at the time. he hopes it’s not a mistake he’ll pay for with his life.)
teetering on the edge of exhaustion, lorenzo throws himself into holding his ground and keeping the wards from being breached. he clawed himself up from nothing, made a life for himself with nothing but his power and his love of beauty and his will to succeed. he won’t succumb to defeat in his first few months in office. he doesn’t even notice he’s fallen to his knees on the floor until underhill bursts in and he has to crane his neck to see all of him.
the world spins and the next thing he knows, underhill is kneeling behind him as lorenzo sways backwards. the solid feel of his chest is a reassuring presence and lorenzo marvels at the fact that this is real. he’s never had someone at his back, literally or figuratively. he’d long ago accepted that his ambition was too much for most people to handle and that if he wanted to accomplish his dreams he’d have to do it on his own.
he’s not alone anymore. and so when underhill asks him how he can help, lorenzo takes a chance. he lays a hand over the familiar one already on his chest over his heart and asks for the impossible.
he won’t be disappointed if underhill refuses. their relationship is still so new and in many ways they’re still tiptoeing around each other and their respective roles as shadowhunter and warlock. it’s a lot to ask of anyone, let alone the man in charge of the entire building’s security, to give up his strength and place his trust in an outsider. surely underhill would prefer to let the wards be comprised and to lead his shadowhunter teams in combat against the threat directly.
except underhill’s hand turns within his own so that he can squeeze lorenzo’s in permission.
strength flows into him and it’s a rush and a wonder, tinged with the familiar aura of the man holding him steady. lorenzo lets it fill him, lets it rejuvenate him until his magic is once against straining at his fingers in impatience to act. he no longer needs to be held to stay upright but he doesn’t shrug off the arms wrapped around him as he renews his defense of the wards.
the rush of nephilim strength is a vaguely reminiscent of when he used the alliance rune with alec lightwood, that surge of power singing through his blood, making him feel invincible. but this is better. unlike that time in edom, underhill holds nothing back from their joining, doesn’t keep his distance the way alec did. there’s no hesitation, no carefully hidden distaste or resentment. it’s just the two of them and their shared strength powering lorenzo’s magic.
it’s that last thought that gives him what he needs to repel the invading magic with one last vicious shove of his will. the connection breaks and with it the intoxicating rush of power.
lorenzo sags, and tumbles to the floor, still held in underhill’s arms which no longer have the strength to hold his weight. they stay like that until lorenzo catches his breath and turns.
the warm, kind eyes of his shadowhunter boyfriend are there to greet him, wiping away the exhaustion and soothing the simmering discomfort at being so vulnerable in what should rightfully be enemy territory. there was a time not so long ago when an institute wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of an exhausted warlock to extort future favors. the instinct to cloak himself in magic and stumble away from this place to a spot outside where he can make a portal is strong. instead he inches closer to the man in front of him and lets himself rest.
even as exhausted as the two of them are, lorenzo knows with a certainly that surprises him that he can let down his guard for this short moment. underhill will make sure he’s safe.
